Indigo, Violet, Brown and Green
by KaleidoscopeKreation
Summary: Lettuce, Pai, Keiichiro and Zakuro are four of my favourite tokyo mew mew characters. And so, in their honour, I have written a one-shot... for every one of the 6 pairings you could make from these four people. And yes, I mean EVERY. Enjoy.
1. Lettuce x Zakuro

**A/N: So yes. Here is a fic NONE of you have been waiting for, but I'm going to write anyway. I'm getting the hardest pairings over with first, as you will see, but read on to get what this fic is all about.  
As I said in my summary, for me, the four most interesting – and awesome – characters in Tokyo Mew Mew are Keiichiro, Zakuro, Lettuce and Pai. This is quite interesting, seeing as they are both very introverted, and, in my opinion, at least, underdeveloped and rather passed over both in canon and in the fandom. People seem to prefer to write stories about the bubblier, open characters like Ichigo and Kisshu – which I totally get, because I like these characters too – they make me laugh out loud. **

**But the problem is, these less major characters often fade into the background, becoming one-dimensional cardboard cutouts who serve only to make up the numbers, or make one-lined remarks that fit in with their 'characters' – or, in, for example, Zakuro's case, say nothing, because 'it's what Zakuro does in canon.'. **

**So I decided to write a fic for these awesome characters, with a one-shot for each pairing that could possibly be made out of them. There will be yaoi, yuri and crack. It is an occupational hazard. But I hope to deepen your perception of these four while I do this, and maybe, by the end, you'll have a new favourite Tokyo Mew Mew character or pairing! :D The fic will be posted, one chapter a day, for the next six days. And yes, they WILL all be up on time. Why? Because I've written them all. I know, I'm amazing. This is the first time I've ever been so organised about a fic. **

**And I'd just like to add... I really don't have time for this. I shouldn't be doing it. I have too much else on. And on that note, Let's start the first chapter! Hurray!**

**

* * *

**

**Party**

Zakuro leans against the wall of Cafe Mew Mew, watching the dancers moving in the flashing lights. Red, green, purple, yellow, white, blue, red again... the cafe is barely recognisable as its safe, pink, childish self. She is at one of Ryou and Keiichiro's many parties, which they seem to take pleasure in throwing for the sole purpose of humiliating/ flirting with the Mews.

She takes a sip of the alcoholic drink in her hand – she enjoys the taste, though she knows already she's had too much. That's probably the reason the room seems to be spinning like a kaleidoscope, the music thumping incessantly in her head, the colours psychedelic and unreal. She could be dancing, but instead she just leans here; because if she does, then one face at least stays clear-cut in the chaos.

The purple Mew's eyes are fixed unwaveringly on this person. She barely even blinks. Such a stare would be disconcerting to the object of it – if ever she chose to look up.

Retasu reads a book in the corner.

She is absorbed, lost in the pages, managing to block out the music and dancing and smells of the party, the flashing lights no longer existing. She is in the world of the book now – she is a hero, striding across deserted moorland, brave, ready to fight and die. The fresh, sharp breeze sweeps her hair, so different from the close, hot air of the cafe, and billowing white clouds scud across a blue sky. There she sits, her body in her flowing sea-green dress at a side-table of the cafe, but her mind is in another world. She has no inkling that an unexpected pair of eyes rest on her.

Zakuro isn't sure why she's watching Retasu. It's just something about her intense, absorbed expression that makes it impossible to look away. The girl's blue eyes are dazzling, the perfect contrast with her green hair. Cool colours, a relief from the hot blacks and reds and yellows of the disco, refreshing to the eye as a breeze is to the skin, but also strangely warm.

She's found herself looking at Retasu a lot over these last few weeks. At first, it was simply for something to look at that – a place to avert the eyes when Pudding or Ichigo was giving you a headache with their constant energy, or Mint was infuriating everyone with her rich-girl pretentions. Because looking at Retasu was so easy, she'd begun watching her just for something to do – simply because she was nice to look at.

But now, Zakuro can't seem to look away. She wonders again how odd she looks, if anyone has noticed.

She can't find the will to care.

But she does wish that Retasu would look _up. _

Retasu still sits there, reading. She has forgotten where she is, how she is dressed, what is expected of her at this party, Ryou, aliens... all of it. She is as zoned out as any drunk might be, in a world of her own. The lights dim slightly as a new song starts, and she leans forward, frowning slightly to decipher the words.

The wolf Mew sees Retasu lean closer to her books, her delicate eyebrows pulled into a frown, her lips pursed in concentration. She wonders how soft Retasu's cream skin might feel, then wonders why she is wondering it.

_Just look up already, Retasu... _

Ignorant of Zakuro's psychic pleas, the porpoise mew remains bent over her book. To Zakuro's mind, it seems like she is being ignored on purpose.

She can't take this anymore.

Pushing herself off the wall, her loose purple hair swinging around her face, she begins to move forward, weaving her way through the dancers and chatting groups of people, focussed on her goal: Retasu's table. A boy tries to pull her into a dance, but she shakes him off. He says something, but she doesn't hear. There is only one person in the room to her.

She reaches the table, and sits down in the chair beside Retasu, her silver and black dress rustling about her. The noise finally brings Lettuce out of her own world, and she starts, snapping her book shut, as an annoyed-looking, intent, intimidating – and maybe slightly drunk? – Zakuro sits down in the chair next to her.

'Zakuro-san?' she says, looking bewildered, as though she has just woken from a dream. 'Gomen nasai, I was reading...' Zakuro can't help but notice how cute she looks when she's apologizing. But it seems so degrading, the way that she's constantly saying sorry, and suddenly Zakuro doesn't want to listen to it any more. Retasu is too good for that.

She folds one leg across the other, and fluidly leans forward. Lettuce's blue eyes widen, her hands gripping a little harder on her book. Zakuro smiles and lowers her voice, moving a hand to grasp Lettuce's. 'Retasu, don't apologize... you didn't do anything.' Then, recklessly, she lifts her other hand and places two fingers on the other Mew's mouth.

She can feel Retasu stiffen. 'Zakuro... san?' her pulse is flickering rapidly in her wrist, her moving lips smooth to touch. Zakuro leans forward.

It could be the alcohol.

Or how pretty Retasu looks tonight.

Or just simple curiosity; or a bit of all three.

But caught by impulse, Zakuro takes Retasu's chin, tilts her face up and kisses her.

It's totally different from kissing a boy, something Zakuro has plenty of know-how in. From her experience, most boys are dominant, responding to even the slightest kiss, and often rougher. But Retasu's lips are smooth and soft, nothing like anything she's felt before, and she just sits there; probably in total shock. Zakuro still hasn't quite registered with her brain, her logic; she only knows that this feeling is nice – what a terrible adjective, for something so strange and sweet and wonderful there is no word quite right for it!

Her right hand raises to run through Lettuce's green hair, and she holds her chin tighter than before, moving closer, trying to coax a response...

Then, Retasu pulls away.

In all her life, Zakuro has never had anyone break a kiss with her; she was always the one to do it. She pushes herself backward, and sees Retasu sitting in her chair, her face a spectacular shade of red, staring at Zakuro like she was just attacked. _Which,_ thinks Zakuro wryly, _she probably thinks she was._

Zakuro is suddenly hit by the full enormity of what she's just done. She gets quickly to her feet, gazing down at the stunned Retasu.

'I'm sorry,' she says simply. The other girl doesn't speak, she just nods. Zakuro becomes aware that there are people watching, and mentally curses.

'I'd better leave.' She flees the party, another thing she has never done before. Tonight has held a lot of new experiences for her. New feelings, new thoughts, new things... she probably shouldn't have done that.

But she somehow doesn't regret it. Because could she have gone on looking at Retasu sitting there, engrossed in her book, and beautiful, and not done _something_?

No.

Zakuro grabs her coat, and steps out into the chilly night air, the wind whipping her purple locks around her face. She sighs in relief, glad to be free of that stuffy party at last. She pities Retasu, still in there, feeling a surge of guilt at leaving her alone to answer the thousand awkward questions people must be bombarding her with. But maybe it will boost the shy girl's confidence, if she feels wanted in this way... even if it is by Zakuro, of all people. Fleetingly, she wonders if she took Retasu's first kiss.

As she strides along the dark streets, she realises that this can't just be a one-off event, something that can be forgotten about the next day. It's going to have repercussions, and lots of them. So many questions.

Was it just the alcohol?

Why did she do it?

And what about Retasu? How will she feel? Shocked? Angry? Or just plain confused?

Zakuro groans and buries her head in her hands, a headache beginning to manifest itself. She leans against a wall and tries to block everything out, but her mind keeps straying to those few brief seconds where she and Retasu were kissing... really kissing...

Another question, one that pushes its way to the very front of her mind, demanding an answer.

_Did she kiss me back?_

Zakuro relives the moment, and wonders.

All the other questions can wait until morning. But this... this is important.

It's Retasu.

* * *

**THE END?**

**A/N: So go on. Bite me. **

**Well, not literally. Flame me, telling me how twisted I am. Whatever. Sorry if it was OoC, remember that I am taking this to the very limits of what the characters might conceivably do. But anyway, I hope you found it interesting at least, and good at best. I really have no idea how it turned out; this is my first time ever writing something that is slightly abnormal in THAT way, so I would be quite interested to know. Clichéd? Sloppy? Strange? Just... lame? There's only one way for me to find out, and improve... for YOU to REVIEW! Pressing that li'l button won't kill you, and think of all the cyber-cookies! XD  
Yeah, so... thanks for reading, and your feedback matters!  
Izzy**


	2. Keiichiro x Pai

**Rainbow Tokyo**

**A/N: this, in my opinion, is the highest hurdle: a Pai / Keiichiro story. Well, let me tell you – once I had the idea, it was actually pretty darn fun. I think I might ship them now. ^^;**

**So here's the Universe (it's pretty alternate): everyone is human. They live in modern day Tokyo. Pai is just a regular guy in his twenties... except, recently he's not so sure about that. And Keiichiro... well, he's a charitable soul, volunteering to help those in the same boat as himself, down at the Rainbow Tokyo Hotline call centre... **

* * *

_Rrrrriiiing. Rrrriiiing. Riiii-_

'Hello, this is Tokyo Rainbow Hotline. Akasaka Keiichiro speaki – '

_Click- beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep... _

Sigh.

_Click. _

* * *

_Rrrrriiiing. Riiiiiiing. Riiii-_

'Hello, this is Tokyo Rainbow Hotline. Akasaka Keiichiro speaking. May I ask your name, or would you prefer to remain confidential?'

A pause. 'Confidential, please.' Another pause. 'You're the same person who answered yesterday.'

'Yes – I volunteer Tuesdays to Fridays, from five till seven-thirty. So if you want to avoid me, don't call then.'

A forced laugh. 'I'm sorry about yesterday; someone knocked at the door, and I dropped the phone, so, uh...'

'Quite.' An awkward silence. 'Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about to us? Or do you just want to have a chat?' It's not said aggressively. Akasaka's voice is the epitome of friendly casualness.

'I was just – curious. In fact, I'm not even sure if this is the right service for me...'

'Sometimes, it can be easier if you just talk about the things in your life to a neutral third party. Then maybe we can help you understand what's going on, and you can decide if you need our help.'

'Sure. Um...'

'Begin at the beginning.'

A nervous laugh. 'Is it really that simple? When did _you _realise you were... well, that is to say... different?'

'I've known since I can remember. I just didn't always know the name. But I understand things are more complex than that. Why don't you start at when you first started thinking about this sort of thing, and why?'

A deep breath. 'Okay.' A pause. 'I suppose it really started off when I was...'

'Pai-kun, I'm home!' A clank of keys in a bowl, and a rapid intake of breath on the other end of the line. 'Who're you on the phone to...?'

'Uh – um – b-but I'm not totally sure about, uh, that, Akito. I'll get back to you, ne? See-you-soon-bye-' _clunk-c-clunk_ _beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep..._

An intake of breath. Comprehension.

'Poor guy.'

_Click. _

_

* * *

_

... bbrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiinnnnnnggg... briiiiiin –

'Hello, Tokyo rainbow hotline. Akasaka Keiichiro speaking.'

'Don't you _ever _get out?' the familiar voice sounds slightly disgruntled.

A laugh. 'A friend of mine was ill, so I swapped shifts with her. But anyway. Pai-san, how nice to hear from you again!'

'How do you – oh no.'

Silence.

'I gather things are a little complicated for you?'

A long pause. And then a deep, ragged sigh, as though from one who is weary of the world.

Akasaka speaks gently. 'Just start wherever you want, and don't leave anything out.'

'I love my girlfriend... I really do. But just recently – oh God. I can't stop thinking about _guys. _It's so wrong. I guess I always... I don't know... I could see guys as, I don't know, handsome... but not like this.'

'I see.' Keiichiro's voice is sympathetic.

'And Zakuro has no idea. When I'm – with... her, I just can't...' he breaks off with a groan, 'I just don't understand it! It's such a _mess!'_

'I suppose that in some ways, being bi – like you – must be harder than being at one end of the spectrum. It must be complicated for you.'

'Like hell it is.' Pai sighs.

A pause.

'Pai-san. Do you think, that, perhaps it would be easier for you to talk about this with somebody face-to-face? There's only so much help a hotline can give you, after all. You could go to a counsellor, or maybe a group – '

'What, like an Al-anon for gays? I think I'll pass.'

Keiichiro sighs. 'Suit yourself, but I still think you should talk to someone in person. This is clearly a complex issue for you.'

An irritated snort. 'If you're so concerned, why don't you meet me?'

There's a silence. And then, 'You have to understand... this wouldn't be able to be a professional meeting for me. My status as a volunteer doesn't extend that far. You would have to give me personal details.'

'Whatever. But – ' Pai sounds awkward, even embarassed, 'it wouldn't be... weird, or anything. I just want to talk.'

'Of course. Do you have a pen and paper with you?'

'Wait, one sec...' the rustle and slunk of a hasty search, and then, 'yes.'

Numbers are read out, for Akasaka's apartment, his mobile and Pai's. A number for Pai's house isn't given. Akasaka doesn't comment on this.

'Where shall I meet you?'

Keiichiro pauses. 'The Starbucks outside Harajuku station? About four?'

'Sure.'

'See you there.' _Click. _

A pause.

'Wey-hey, look who just got himself a da – '

'If you don't shut up, Asazuki, so help me I'll-'_ crash... click._

_

* * *

_

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-

'Hello?'

'Are you nearly here?'

'Pai-san! Yes, indeed I am. I'm just leaving Harajuku station now.'

'Great. You should see me – I'm at a table by the window.'

'How do you look? Roughly.'

A slightly impatient sigh. 'I'm tall, and pretty pale. I'm wearing a black jacket, and I have grey eyes.'

'Thank-you. I'm coming around the corner now.'

'Keiichiro?'

A pause.

'I just want to say... thanks for agreeing to this.'

'No problem. I'm glad to be able to help.'

'Yeah.' A pause. 'wait, I think I can see you now. I'll ring off.'

_Beeep-_

Pai? I can't see yo – ' a slow intake of breath. 'Oh my God.'

_Click._


	3. Lettuce x Keiichiro: for Cherrie!

**Soooo yeah, I finished the one, which, in my opinion, is the most interesting of the lot – Keiichiro x Lettuce. It's the final 'crack' pairing one-shot I've written; now I just have the canons left. And I actually have **_**no idea **_**whether this is good or not, or even makes sense. So let me give you the lowdown. It's set in the amazing Cherrie S. xx's universe for **_**Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles, **_**which is, incidentally, 17****th****-century America. So I attempted to make this fit in with the Victorian-romantic period. Ish. Very Jane-Austen-ey sort of stuff. Cherrie-oneechan, I love you! And, everyone, be sure to go and read her stories, especially the AU one. =) It's all awesome stuff, let me tell you! **

**Summary: in 1820s New York, and eighteen-year old Lettuce Midorikawa is Maid to the rich socialite girl Minto Aizawa. It's certainly a tiring job, and Lettuce is so busy that she doesn't notice Keiichiro Akasaka, the graceful young Butler, begin to take a shine to her... **

* * *

**Sweets to the Sweet**

'Akasaka-san!'

Lettuce entered the kitchen in her usual haphazard fashion, skirting around piles of plates and neatly stacked cooking utensils, skidding on the newly-washed stone slabs that made up the floor, yelping in shock and catching hold of a pot handle to steady herself, only to let go rapidly and stand there, flapping her slightly burnt hand and swaying slightly as she steadied herself.

Keiichiro turned away from the huge coal oven and greeted her with his usual serene smile. 'Lettuce-san. How are you? I'm sorry about your hand; would you like something cold to apply to it?'

'I think I'll be alright, Akasaka-san.'

'If you're sure. But what brings you here?'

'Miss Minto requested drink and sustenance to be brought up to her room. She and Miss Ichigo are already making preparations for the ball tonight.'

'Thirsty work, no doubt,' Keiichiro said amusedly. 'I take it they will not be dining with us this evening?'

'No, Akasaka-san. They plan to eat there.'

'In that case, my cooking for this evening is considerably simpler,' Keiichiro said cheerfully, and Lettuce couldn't help but smile too.

'But,' Keiichiro continued, heading over to the water-pump and rinsing his hands of flour, 'it is unfortunate that Miss Minto and her companion requested their tea so early. I just put in a fresh batch of ginger-hearts, and had they waited another half-an-hour for their refreshment, they might have had hot ginger-hearts and coffee.'

'What a pity,' Lettuce sighed, thinking dreamily of warm biscuits and hot coffee; things she had rarely eaten herself, but while walking the streets or hurrying in and out of the kitchen, had smelt many times.

'Not to worry. The scones from yesterday will do them just as well.' Keiichiro dried his hands, and then grabbed a heavy iron kettle, rolling up his shirtsleeves and filling it deftly with water from the pump. 'I'll quickly put a pot of tea on; if you wait here a little, you can take it up to them.'

Lettuce bowed her head a little, feeling regretful. 'Thank-you for your kind offer, Akasaka-san, but I am afraid I can't. Miss Minto specifically told me to hurry back up when I was done, and allow another maid to bring the tea up when it was ready.'

Keiichiro gave a small noise, which, if Lettuce had not known him for his reliable good humour, she might have mistaken for an impatient sigh. 'It cannot be helped. But if Miss Minto gives you a spare moment tonight, feel free to come down here awhile.' He gave another of his handsome smiles. 'Perhaps I shall even be able to keep you back a ginger-heart, if you wish.'

Lettuce felt her cheeks turn a little pink at his kindness, and dropped her gaze to the floor. 'Th-thank-you very much, Akakas- a – Akasaka-san,' she stuttered just a little toward the finish, and exited hastily, lifting her skirts a little as she skirted the wet paving and hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Keiichiro smiled fondly after her. Such a sweet girl. It was a shame that Minto kept Lettuce dancing to her every whim each moment of the day. He scarcely saw her other than to carry orders from her mistress, and he secretly wished that he might be given the chance to acquaint himself with her a little better – bring her out of her shell, and then, maybe, he'd be able to see more of her rare but lovely smile.

* * *

It was almost midnight before Lettuce was free to come down those stairs again.

She was exhausted, after receiving Miss Mint and her guest back from the ball, helping her Mistress out of her finery (Miss Ichigo had been kinder and not demanded Lettuce's help), and preparing everything they presumably needed for bed. A water jug, a hair-net, a flat-iron... and she was prepared to stumble into the house's basement and collapse on her straw-tick mattress before another six o'clock start the next day.

She wearily crossed the hallway to the kitchen. She had to pass through it to reach her quarters – a small, cupboard-like bedroom off from the food-stores – and she usually trod carefully. A dark kitchen was a perilous place for a clumsy girl like herself, especially when there was no kind Akasaka to warn her of possible hazards.

She thought of him now, and her hand paused on the latch of the kitchen door. He had been employed in this house far longer than she had herself – he was something of a permanent fixture. In the time she had known him he had moved from being cook to full butler, when old Smithson had passed away. Though he was young for such a job, it had come as a surprise to no one. He was always charming, courteous and elegant – though he had his work cut out both preparing the food and serving at dinner, he never once looked tired or stressed. He just seemed to glide through it, like a swan. Lettuce wished she could be more like him – the perfect servant, beautiful and graceful.

Smiling a little, the lifted the heavy latch and pushed the door open.

There was still a little light in the kitchen.

He must have left a lamp out for her, so she didn't trip. Kind Akasaka-san.

Lettuce stole carefully through the kitchen, dodging obstacles by the warm yellow light of the lamp. In the quiet, she heard her stomach rumble. She hadn't eaten for nearing six hours, since her meagre, hurried bread-and-butter dinner. She hated sleeping on an empty stomach, though it was something she did all the time. Grimacing a little, she headed toward the store-cupboard, and then stopped.

There, on the table, sat a plate with two ginger-hearts, and beside it, a steaming mug of cocoa.

Lettuce gave a small surprised noise, and then beamed in delight, hurrying over to the small table and lifting the piece of paper that was tucked neatly under the plate. She narrowed her eyes and squinted at the words; reading had never been her forte, and it was harder still to make out the words by the muted light of the lamp. Tracing her finger below the words, she read:

_Dear Lettuce,_

_I hope that your evening was not too arduous, but in case you are in need of a little refreshment, I left you something to eat before you go to sleep. The ginger-snaps should be warm (I heated them a little in the oven), and be careful with the cocoa. It may burn your tongue._

_Best,_

_Keiichiro_

_PS: don't worry about washing-up. Just leave the things where they are – I'll attend to them. And I hope you like the message on your heart! _

Lettuce looked at the plate. On the largest biscuit, there were four simple words iced in white: _sweets to the sweet. _

Lettuce shook her head wonderingly, and sat herself down on a narrow kitchen stool, pulling the plate closer to her and taking a large bite out one of the ginger-hearts. She swigged the cocoa (which, had it been any hotter, _would _indeed have burnt her tongue) and then dunked the remaining part of her biscuit into it, relishing the warm, sweet combination of ginger and chocolate.

All too soon, she could see the dregs at the bottom of her mug, and the ginger-hearts were reduced to a few crumbs. Lettuce had debated whether to save the second heart – it was so pretty, it was a shame to eat it – but her hunger had triumphed and she had eaten it, thinking philosophically that, after all, it had been made to be eaten.

She sat back with a sigh of contentment, gathering the last crumbs off the plate with her finger and putting it into her mouth. But she quickly removed it with a grimace, as a sharp bitter taste permeated her mouth. Confused, she looked down at her finger, and noticed, by the light of the lamp, that it was soot-black.

Alarmed, she looked around, wondering how on earth such a fate could have befallen her finger. Was it, perhaps, an infection? Or a curse? But then, her eyes alighted on Keiichiro's note, and she realised, in relief, that the bottom of each letter was a little smudged, from where she had followed the words with her finger.

And then Lettuce realised something.

If the letters had smudged, it meant the ink was still a little wet. And if the ink was wet, it meant Keiichiro must have written the note very recently indeed.

Suddenly, Lettuce began to wonder about her seemingly conjured midnight snack. Of course, it was not magic. In her mind's eye, she began to plan it out, as she would have done if she were Keiichiro: waiting up until he heard Mint arrive home; placing the ginger-hearts into the oven, and preparing the mug of cocoa; icing the heart, and hastily putting everything away; writing her a note in his careful, flowing handwriting, and then disappearing before it had a chance to dry. What a lot of work and effort to go to, just to prepare her – clumsy, boring Lettuce – something to eat before she went to bed!

Lettuce leant forward and rested her chin in her hands, gazing into the middle distance and thinking of Keiichiro. He was calm, and collected, and seemed to produce food and happiness and solutions out of nowhere, like a magician, with no apparent effort at all.

But now she had seen through his latest miracle; but somehow, that just made it more special. She had seen how much effort and planning he had put into making her evening a little better – she was touched to her heart, and longed to find him and somehow thank him for all he had done.

He really was like a swan, she thought reflectively. Gliding smoothly across the surface of life, but underneath, he was paddling as hard and as fast as the rest of them. He wasn't magical, he didn't defy nature... but that didn't make him any less special.

Lettuce gave a cavernous yawn, and put a hand over her mouth in surprise. How long had she been sitting here? Her eyes were drooping with tiredness, and she could feel the biscuits and cocoa as a warm, sleepy weight in her stomach.

So Lettuce went to bed, and slept more soundly and peacefully than she had done for a long time. And if anyone had been watching, they might have seen a dark shape come noiselessly into the kitchen, and quietly rinse the plate and cup with a jug of water left ready by the pump, and then put them away in their proper places. And they might have seen the tall, poised figure stand for a moment, absentmindedly gazing toward the door of the store-cupboard, before turning and leaving softly the way they had come.


	4. Zakuro x Pai

**The silence keeps it easy**

**A/N: And yes, this one was also hard. But again, once I had the idea, it was almost – dare I say it? – fun. Well, at least it flowed. I had it done in a bit more than half-an-hour, truth be told. So here's the Pai x Zakuro oneshot, and shall I ask you to enjoy it? Well, do if you can. Happy reading. =) **

* * *

The silence keeps it easy for him.

As Pai steals soundlessly by the doors to Kisshu's and Taruto's rooms, they do not stir. They are both sound sleepers, despite the discipline he has instilled in them to stay alert at all times. He can just hear a faint snore coming from behind Kisshu's door, and he nods to himself, satisfied that nobody knows that he is leaving. He enters the dimension between his ship and the earth, its deep-green mist bluish-black in the darkness. The computer lights wink intermittently, but other than that, all is dark and quiet. The barely noticeable sound of his teleportation permeates the stillness for a moment, and then fades. His departure, as always, has gone unnoticed.

The silence keeps it easy for her.

A brief nod to the late-night receptionist is all it takes to convey what she needs to. 'I'm going out. Don't ask where. Let me in when I get back.' If she doesn't speak, the woman behind the desk won't ask. Zakuro knows the routine.

She walks along the street, trench-coat flapping, her high-heeled steps clacking in the night. She walks. She won't take a cab – her journey is an independent one. There will be no evidence of where she went tonight. There never is.

A group of men outside a garish bar with blaring music yell to her, their voices slurred with alcohol. She doesn't look at them, just keeps walking. She doesn't have to say anything to let them know they've been snubbed. Their drunken minds will soon forget her – another of the many passers in the night. No voice to go by, no words. It's simple.

The silence keeps it easy.

As she nears the hill of the park, her steps are muffled by the soft grass. She blends with the night. Nobody sees her make her way up to the cluster of trees at the top.

The shrill of summer cicadas masks every other sound in the air. The ripple of Pai's arrival is unheard, except by the ears expecting it. As she comes into the trees, she catches it with her sensitive hearing, and makes her way slowly toward him, her fingertips brushing trees to find her way through the deep shadows. Barely any starlight permeates the leaves above them. The air is calm and still.

Hands touch. A pair of arms loop around her waist. Her hand reaches to brush his face, his neck, his shoulders. Lips move together, each pair hungry, longing, not thinking, but feeling in the darkness. Hands tangle in hair, move under clothing and against skin. There's an occasional gasp or sigh, but no words.

Nothing to make them think, to consider what they're doing; to stop and talk, or stay for longer than they must, just to get their fill. Nothing to make them question their morals; nothing to remind him that the woman in his arms is a human; nothing to stab at her conscience for consorting with her one of her sworn enemies.

So they meet tonight, as they did yesterday, and will tomorrow, and they don't say a word. Because words are unnecessary, noisy things that make this more complicated than it has to be. Neither of the two wants this to be about words; just taste, and touch, and sensation, and raw instinct. Plain, simple and quiet.

The silence keeps it easier for both of them.


	5. Zakuro x Keiichiro

**A/N: something I noticed when I was listening to my iPod, was that the songs I was listening to weren't about the sweet, kind girls who men spend their lives with. They were about the sexy girls, the confident ones, the heart-breakers. The songs that pull the listener to tears, that get number 1's, more often and not aren't about the people who made the writer happy. They're about the cold, beautiful girls who broke his heart, who he wrote a song about to express the pain they'd driven him to. That he cared about, that he felt about, so strongly. And so the cold facade that Zakuro creates to show the world seemed like the perfect thing for this story. **

**And so, I give you... my Zakuro x Keiichiro one-shot. **

* * *

**The Cruel Girls**

'Zakuro?'

She pauses in the doorway, looking across at me with cold blue eyes. 'Yes?'

I dry my hands on a towel and cross the kitchen toward her, steeling myself to say the words I've been wanting to say, rehearsing, for days. 'I'd like to talk to you. About Minto.'

She folds her arms across her chest. 'Start whenever you want.'

Her attitude ignites a spark of irritation inside me, but I keep it out of my expression; so many years of putting up with a petulant Ryou have required me to maintain flawless composure in the face of annoyance. 'I think... the way you treat her... is beginning to border on unacceptable. You know how much she cares for your opinion, but you seem to push her away, bring her down, at every opportunity. Though she's good at concealing it, it's beginning to wear on her, you know. It's not good for her, and I'm worried about her stability if we let this carry on for much longer.'

But Zakuro simply stares past me, replying simply with an emotionless, enigmatic shrug. I wait for her reply, and eventually she speaks, still looking past my head.

'She has far too much self-confidence. She can act rudely, and selfishly, and if I'm the only person who she respects enough for her to be taken down a peg, I'll do what's necessary to make it happen.' She looks at the space above my head with the slightest hint of triumph. She thinks she's won.

But I was prepared for this. 'But Zakuro, it's not helping. All that's happening is that she's becoming increasingly worshipful to you – to the point of an obsession, even – and still treating everybody else the same as she always did – if not worse, because she feels she must maintain her pride, and her self-esteem, by proving to herself that, at least, she's superior to everyone _but _you.'

Zakuro remains silent, and so I carry on.

'Zakuro, what you're doing isn't "taking down a peg". It's upsetting an already unbalanced scale. You're – ' I search for a more elegant word, but fail to find one, ' – you're _messing_ with Minto's mind, and unless you allow this balance – with you on one side, and the world on the other – to equalise itself, it could be dangerous – for both of you.'

I suddenly realise that I've been speaking loudly, almost shouting. There's a long silence, while I try to get my emotions back under control.

'Did you realise?' I say softly, after a few moments. She stares resolutely at the spot above my head. 'Did you know what you are doing to Mint?' I ask again.

There's no point in her answering. We both know.

'Zakuro... why?'

Still refusing to look at me, she speaks.

'You're over-thinking this. You've spent far too long nosing into business that has nothing to do with you. Just because you have no life of our own gives you no right to interfere with ours – even if you are our _creators_. No one asked you to step in. We don't need you.'

She's wrong again.

'Mint asked me to talk to you about this. She said she thought you would listen to me.' A pause. 'I suppose I've let her down.'

And finally, I can see some emotion on her face. She's looking sick, stricken, almost horrified. But at the same time, so cold, so alone, and independent. So in charge, that she can control a younger girl's mind. Why does she want this? Why does she need this?

'Zakuro,' I ask her softly, for the last time, 'why are you so cruel?'

And finally, she meets my eyes – burning blue eyes filled with rage, and ice, but, in the middle of everything she's created, a black hole.

Eyes that are suddenly filled with tears.

'Because the cruel girls get the best songs,' she says to me, and then she turns around, and walks out.

Because, past everything, she's like all of us. She needs people to care.


	6. Pai x Lettuce

**A/N: **Oh my gosh, the final one-shot is here already! Wow, I got through them fast. This one is a Pai x Lettuce, and hurrah for canon! I think it went quite well. There's no actual meeting in this one, and I'm not even sure if it's romantic, but it still contains fluff. It's set when Lettuce is 20, five years after the aliens took the Mew Aqua to their home planet. In this story, they haven't returned since.

* * *

**Star-gazing**

Looking up at the mass of tiny lights above her, she wonders if any of them his star – the sun that his planet moves around. She doubts it. It's probably too far away or too small to be seen from earth, or humans would have discovered the aliens before now. Or maybe not, if they lived underground.

But _if _one of those stars was his star, which would it be? That bright one, to her left? Or maybe that dimmer one, in the the hazy mist of the Milky-way?

She tips her head back and gazes up at the glittering vault of stars over her head, marvelling at the universe's wonders, scattered extravagantly across the sky as though just for her to gaze at. Directly above her, she can see Orion, with his oddly-shaped torso, and the three bright, clear stars that made up his belt. "The mighty hunter's belt," her mother used to whisper to her, reaching out a finger to guide Lettuce's eye to it, as they lay side by side in the garden, watching the stars. When she was a child, the stars had fascinated her and scared her at the same time – their magnificence, their total indifference to good, and evil, and the small, insignificant girl watching them from her tiny planet.

Now she's sitting here on her own, nearly grown-up, on the balcony of her new, rented apartment – it's on the outskirts of town, and it's surprisingly quiet, but for the chirp of a cricket and the swish of a passing car. She's staring up at the sky, and thinking of him – thinking of him with the affection of a well-known story, or maybe a talisman, protecting her.

'They never came back, but maybe it was just too far. I hope they're happy on their planet, wherever it is,' she says aloud. Her eye passes over the middle star in the row; the unthinkably huge inferno of the star casting its light across a void wider than she can imagine, to twinkle serenely at her as she sits peacefully on her roof. A speck on a lump of rock. But a thinking speck.

That would be his star, Lettuce decides. The middle star in the mighty hunter's belt. He would like that – even though he would think mostly of the science of the stars, she thought, and scoff at the humans' whimsical stories.

But he wouldn't mean it, because he saved her, didn't he? He'd saved all of them, despite having fought them for so long.

And so whenever she thought of him, on his planet, wherever it might be, Lettuce smiled. Because he had turned out to be a good person after all, though in that last day, she had been so afraid.

That was why, when she looked out at the stars, she felt at home; still awed by their beauty, but not scared. Because she knew, that out there in the universe, there was good.

So she looks at the stars, and she thinks of him.

* * *

**A/N: and with that, Indigo, Violet, Brown and Green is over. I hope you enjoyed my fic, and thanks for all the lovely reviews. I'll answer them as soon as possible.**

Over and out,

**Essence of Gold xox**


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